Broken Lilacs and Roses
by Darkpurpleflame
Summary: How would you feel having to grow up with the knowledge that your parents will never get better? How would you fel if your own mother didn't recognize you? Story about what Neville has to go through every time he visits his parents.


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Disclaimer: I don't own The Harry Potter Series, J.K. Rowling does. 

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AN: This contains mild spoilers for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix so read at your own risk. 

_Broken Lilacs and Roses_

~*~

I can see them just ahead of me; why wont they look at me? All I want is a look just one look. A glance of recognition. I reach out for them and all I get is a blank stare with their dead eyes. My father is walking around with a nurse behind him trying to keep him calm. My mother sits in the shade in ignorant bliss, not noticing that I had come up to where she was. I take my mothers clammy hand and sit next to her on the grass of St. Mungos. She smiles at me, a crazed blissful smile. It hurt to look at her but I muster up the few bits of courage I have inside and smile at her. I can feel the stinging in my eyes that shows that I'm holding back my tears. My vision starts to blur but I take a deep breath and start talking softly.

"Don't you remember me mum? I'm your son Neville. I visit you every time I'm home for the holidays."

She looked at me for a moment, and I thought that she might actually remember me this time. I choked back a sob as she looked away, staring at a butterfly with childlike fascination. She reached for it but it fluttered away, she smiled, her eyes clearly dazed. I take another deep breath, trying to steady my emotions. I didn't want to turn into my usual blubbering self in front of my mother. I did it at every visit, and in the unlikely chance that she might remember me, I didn't want her thinking I was weak. 

I try to gain her attention again, I wave my arm in her face and she looks startled for a second before looking at me like I was a complete stranger. Again, I fight back the urge to start sobbing and hand her a bouquet of flowers. The bittersweet smell of Roses and Lilacs made my eyes water even further, Gran' still had Mums old perfume bottles that father used to buy her. That scent was completely hers. 

Her face breaks into a happy smile. She sniffs the flowers and looks at them lovingly. The same look that I longed for her to use towards me. She looks at me again and reaches into the pocket of her dressing gown and takes out an empty Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper, like she always did. Placing it in my pocket, I now let the tears flow freely from my eyes as I see her humming to the flowers as she touched the soft petals with long slender fingers. 

"Happy birthday mum. I brought you your favorite flowers. I hope you like them."

I had heard my voice waver and break while I spoke, but I can't control my emotions anymore. I brought my knees up to my chin and hugged my legs close. They held no comfort for me, but neither did the woman who sat in front of me. Never speaking a word, never showing any emotions towards me. I silently sobbed into my arms, thinking of nothing that could possibly console me. But I should be used to this. 

Another bought of tears hit me and I shook with pent up emotions that seem to come out of me every time I lay eyes on the woman in front of me. Sometimes I wished she would just look at me with false recognition. I wished that she would just pretend for my sake that she knew that I was her son. 

I hear a noise in front of me and I look up to see her skipping off towards a tree, my father was there looking at a squirrel with a dazed smile. She dropped her flowers half way there and I got up to get them. 

I stood there, watching them look at the tree like it was the most important thing in the world. Clutching the bouquet, I let out a whimper as I stared at the flowers as if they were the cause of my problems. I felt myself glare at the soft pink roses and the light purple lilacs with anger. It was easier to blame the poor defenseless flowers than anyone else. I could just blame The Dark Lord, but he didn't tell those group of deranged wizards to torture his parents. It was easier than being angry at his parents for forgetting him. 

It was easier to let out all of the pent up anger and frustration I had inside on the poor plants in front of me. I tear up the tissue paper that was wrapped around them and start ripping them apart. I could feel the rose thorns digging into my hands but all I saw was a blur of pinks, purples, greens, and crimson red. The torn petals fell to my feet, stained with my blood and angry droplets of my tears clung to the broken stems. 

Finally I stopped. 

I was breathing as if I had just ran, labored and erratic. I stared at the ground with shock and fear. Seeing what I did to the defenseless flowers, I felt my knees give up under me. I picked up the torn petals and broken stems with both hands. I stared at my hands and cried harder than I had earlier. I cried into my hands, sitting cross-legged. Rocking back and forth, sobbing, I stayed there trying to block out the sounds of my parents running around with a few of the other patients. I could feel my shoulders shaking and my chest stung from lack of air. But I didn't care. I just let the tears come down. I muttered I'm sorry's, but to whom I said them to I don't know. I just muttered incoherently, my voice hoarse and tired, repeating useless apologies for only the broken flowers to hear. 

How could I just rip apart my mothers flowers like that? 

What type of a person was I that I took out my anger on a flower?

Wiping my face with the lining of my cloak I looked at what was left at the beautiful flowers and saw one white pink rose survived my brutal assault. Picking it up I stared at it with red rimmed eyes. I had hand picked and trimmed this and the other flowers from Gran's greenhouse. I had even asked Gran if I could grow these flowers specifically for Mother and I destroyed them. Standing up I went to where my mother and father were sitting by a small water fountain and held out the rose for mother. Father looked at it funny but smiled at the scent. Mother smiled at me, still not recognizing me, and I gave her a quick peck on the cheek. 

And then I ran. 

I ran up to the building as fast as I could, I could already feel pain in my sides but I had to get out of there. I skidded to a halt at the door to the waiting room where Gran was waiting for me. Her black stuffed vulture hat sitting on her snow white hair. Her handbag draped across the seat next to her. She didn't comment on the state that my clothes were now in, or why my hands were red and raw crusted with dried blood. She didn't say a word about my red rimmed eyes and my tear streaked pale face. She merely grabbed her handbag and started talking. 

"We are going to Diagon Alley tomorrow so you need to wake up early in the morning."

"Yes Gran'," I responded with a small voice. My throat was sore and my eyes still stung, the stitch on my side was slowly leaving me. I followed her out the door. We walked slowly to the fireplace at the front of the building. 

"Oh, and your uncle and aunt will be coming to the house in about a week so you need to smarten up before your uncle starts on you again."

"Yes Gran'." 

"Should we go out for dinner tonight or would you like me to cook you a nice meal? Or maybe we can just order in? I think that would be most appropriate, don't you?"

"Yes Gran'." 

"You need to water the house plants before you go to bed tonight, the fly trap is looking shabby." 

"Yes Gran'."

"And I need you to clean your room after we come back from Diagon Alley tomorrow. I don't know how you can even walk in that room, its a complete mess."

"Yes Gran'." 

"Have you finished your summer assignments for school yet, young man? I can't have you going into your Seventh year without your homework. "

"Yes Gran'." 

"Make sure you ask your aunt to go over the answers to make sure they are correct. And be polite when you do so, I will not be having her criticize the way I'm raising you."

"Yes Gran'."

When we reached the fireplace, the healer in charge of my parents gave me and Gran' a nod as he walked into his office with a few nurses. She took some Floo Powder from the mantle and handed me the pot, but as I took a handful of powder, Gran' gave me a small smile. She stroked my cheek with one overly jeweled wrinkled hand, she looked worried about me. 

"And Neville, you need to stop beating yourself up about this. Its not good for you, dear." 

I gave her a grateful smile and nodded. "Yes Gran'."

She gave me a small smile. And I spoke again. "When can we come back again?"

"Right before you go back to Hogwarts." She paused and looked so sad for a moment. I could see her eyes shining with unshed tears but she smiled. I felt so confused at that moment. But then she said something that made everything better, at least for a moment.

"You know, your parents do love you, even if they can't always show it."

Words I never grew tired of hearing from her, it was one of the few signs that showed me she cared. 

Throwing the Floo Powder into the fire I stepped in saying clearly, my mouth full of ash and soot. 

"Greenstem!"

~*~

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AN: Poor Neville, I wish I could give him a hug... I always felt bad for him and wished that he played a more important role. So I was glad that he did in the 5th book ^_^. 

I doubt I will continue this story, so it will probably stay a one shot.

He needs to be on the little character list thingie too....Does anyone know where you have to go to ask for that?

Let me know ^^

Later


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